I was saved. My phone buzzed. She’d sent me a text: _“Wanna talk? Tomorrow 9pm ok with you? Z”_ Z was Zoe. You wouldn’t believe the crap you get as a girl online, so Zoe went by the sexless handle ‘Z’. I’d teased her about Zed the gay biker tits in the movie Pulp Fiction a few times but she stuck with ‘Z’. And going to uni was supposed to be my escape from Zoe. Christ, I’m making her sound like a monster, an abusive monster. Well it isn’t anything like that; nothing like that at all! Zoe is an angel. A very weird different angel, but an angel nonetheless. A bit of back-story: Zoe and I were in sixth form together; sixth form is what we call the two years at school between high-school and uni in England. She was the frumpy quiet shy tiny girl hiding in the corner who never approached anybody, never talked, never got noticed. And if anyone tried to approach her she would have been rude and cold and uninterested. People were so not her thing. Back when we were put together for our first team assignment she surprised everyone by approaching the teacher at the front and asking if she could work alone! There was a hush as she approached and asked, the whole class listening intently to see how it panned out. This couldn’t be asian personal since she didn’t even know me; it wasn’t me, it was her who had the problem. When the teacher gave us all a stern loud lecture on the importance of teamwork and communication I almost felt sorry for her. It took at least half of that first assignment before she began amateur to thaw. She was like Hermione Granger, which is a reference she’d appreciate because Zoe loves her fantasy books and Harry Potter is one of her favourites. We became friendly. We never really _talked_, but we _chatted_ online. After the first term it became _all_ the time. We’d be sitting across a desk from each other, laptops open, chatting away without talking. Being computer science students, Zoe had developed her own chat web voyeur app called Zit. Actually, normal computer students don’t do that kind of thing: Zoe was an over-achiever. I think us two were the only users. Online, Zoe was talkative; boy could she talk! She’d even make boring conversations interesting by play word games such as going the whole morning where every chat message was based on lines from a Beatles lyric or something. _“I can’t believe its happened to me. I can’t conceive of any more misery. Netflix was down”_ I mean, how can you not fall in love with a girl like that? Houston, we have a problem: boys and girls can’t ‘just’ be friends. One or the other always wants more. I wanted more. Beneath those frumpy clothes was actually a petite little pixie that enchanted me. She had a pretty little face hidden behind that boring boyish bowl-cut dirty-blonde hair. I fantasised about the rest of her, hidden beneath the japan frumpy baggy jumpers and jeans and sensible boots. Emily got dressed, cleaned japan up the mess she had made as good as possible and went home. Yes, Master. "Get him to tell you all the nasty things he would do to you if he got tits you in his voyeur bed." She turned out to be Jill...my so called best friend. Still holding her legs as before, I adjusted myself so that my cock head rested into the folds asian amateur of her muff, and lined myself up. He was grinning mischievously at her as he teased with his words, finding the awkward discomfort she expressed amusing. “Neija and I talked during breakfast. “Spot on.” She answered. The black inmate walks the sissy up to the C.O. The inmate and the C.O. talk and the C.O. gets up and walks over to a cleaning supply closet just around the corner from his desk, and unlocks the door. “But not when I’m with you. I'll be your queen. Then the next one was a little more passionate.